Let the Arrow Fly
by Romione4Life
Summary: A short fanfiction detailing how I feel Mockingjay should have ended. Katniss is happy now, but for some reason Gale isn't. What's he hiding? And yes, I changed the ending, but there are still Mockingjay spoilers, so don't read this if you haven't read Mockingjay.


**Author's Note: I wrote this because personally I was unhappy with the end of Mockingjay, so I decided to make my own. I really didn't think Gale would just go off to District 2 like he did and forget about Katniss. Plus, I'm not gonna lie, it satisfies my Katniss/Gale shipper heart, and therefore I wouldn't suggest reading this if you're a super hardcore Katniss/Peeta fan. You've been warned...**

**Credit to my friend Lady Elena Dawson for inadvertently giving me the idea for my favorite part in this fanfiction. :)**

**Disclaimer: If I was Suzanne Collins and I owned the Hunger Games, do you REALLY think I'd be rewriting the end of the last book?**

He approaches so quietly that I feel him before I see him. His strong arms wrapping around my waist, his warm breath on the back of my neck. I close my eyes for a few seconds and savor the moment before turning to look at him.

"Hey, Gale," I say softly.

"Hey, Catnip," he replies, and I smile at the use of my old nickname. "I got some bread," he continues, taking the still-warm loaf from a pouch slung over his shoulder.

My grin fades slightly. Even now I can't go to the bakery – it reminds me too much of a certain person – so Gale has to go instead. I try to remind myself that I'm over Peeta. Gale is the one I want to be with.

"Thanks," I say quickly, realizing how long I've been standing there without speaking.

Gale, who either didn't notice the silence or didn't mind, sets the bread on the kitchen table as I reach for a jar of olive oil. I dip my finger into the oil and rub it on my dry lips. "What do you want to do now?" I ask.

"It's a really nice day today," Gale answers. "You should get outside. How about we go for a walk in the woods?"

"That sounds great," I say.

I follow Gale outdoors and into the forest. My smile returns the minute we are surrounded by trees. I'm always happy when I'm in the woods. Gale, however, doesn't seem to be sharing my feelings. He has an odd expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" I inquire, slightly concerned.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," Gale says, shaking his head as if he's trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. "It's just that…" He trails off, looking upset.

"Tell me," I persist.

"It's just that I can't help thinking about everything that happened. It almost makes me wish we could go back to the time before the rebellion," Gale confesses.

"Gale…" I say, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "I don't blame you for what happened, and neither would Prim. You know that."

Gale pulls away and sits down on a rock, burying his head in his hands. "You should blame me!" he bursts out. "It's my fault Prim died! I didn't know how to tell you, and I didn't want to tell you anyway because I knew you'd be mad, but I can't keep it a secret anymore."

He lifts his head and meets my gaze. I'm startled to see a tear rolling down his cheek. For the first time I can remember, Gale Hawthorne is crying.

"'m so sorry," he whispers. "I got caught up in the rebellion, and before I knew it there was so much chaos and confusion… I'd take it all back in an instant if I could…"

I'm not sure how to feel. But as I study his anguished, remorseful face, I don't think I could be angry even if I tried.

I sit down on the rock beside Gale and grasp his hand again. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Yeah, but most people don't make mistakes as big as mine," Gale mumbles.

"True," I concede, "but that doesn't mean you don't deserve forgiveness. And I love you too much to not forgive you."

"Why do you have to be so forgiving, Katniss?" Gale cries. "I deserve a lot worse than what you're giving me!"

I'm shocked by Gale's second outburst. "Do you _want_ me to get mad?" I ask incredulously.

"As a matter of fact, yes! I do!" Gale shouts.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. It's a lot harder to be mad when you've been told to be mad rather than being mad of your own free will.

"I – I can't," I say finally. "But I really don't think I need to."

"You can't come up with anything to say?" Gale asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I shake my head. "Gale, I'm not going to lie and say I'm not upset about Prim's death. Of course I am. But look at it this way. When I'm hunting, I have to be patient. I have to find my target and line up my shot perfectly before I can release the arrow. It takes time, and so will this healing process. I won't get over Prim's death today, or tomorrow, or the day after. But someday I'll be ready to let this arrow fly, and you will, too."

Gale thinks about my words for a while. "I guess that makes sense," he says at last. He pulls me closer to him and hugs me tightly.

"We'll get through this," I murmur into his ear. "I know we will."


End file.
